ENCOUNTER IN A CANTINA
by Corellian Maid
Summary: A woman watches Han Solo and his group during a night of merry-making


Presia slipped into the comfortably padded booth she usually occupied each night at the Spaceport Cantina. The place was nearly full of various species of life forms from throughout

the galaxy. Milky-white haze floated through the air; smoke from breathing packs, exotic blends of chemicals and weeds that were being enjoyed by other-world patrons. Drinks of every kind dotted the tables and music played by the small band was somewhat eerie, but had a sensuous melody. Couples sat in intimate booths throughout the large, shadowy place - couples as far as she could tell. With some of the off-worlders it was difficult to distinguish between male and female; in some cases the being was asexual.

The different languages spoken, customs and habits that were displayed by the aliens, was the reason Presia loved the Cantina. Things are quiet, tonight, she thought to herself; I should be able to get a lot done.

"Have you chosen a drink?" A female server asked.

"I'll have a yellow." Presia answered.

The server's 'thank you' was drowned out by loud, boisterous laughter preceding the entrance of other merry-making patrons. Presia glanced toward the door to catch a glimpse of the celebrating space people.

The first to enter was a lithe, darkly-complexioned woman of such beauty that every male in the room looked in her direction. Her waist length, jet black hair was adorned with ra'bles, dyers, amets and assuzs; all very rare and expensive jewels. Her gown was a deep rose mist, which contrasted very alluringly with her skin and hair, and fit every curve of her body as though she had been born wearing it.

Surely that lady knew how to attract the attention of any man, and tonight, that man was a tall, boyish-looking freighter pilot. Presia could tell by the deck clothes he wore. She smiled to herself; he knew how to pick the ones who would pay the bill. He was different from other pilots she'd seen; this one wore a blaster slung low on his right thigh, and his swagger when he strode through the cantina to a dark booth gave the impression he was well experienced in handling it.

Presia watched them as they settled into the booth, the woman sliding intimately next to the man. He whispered something to her and her laughter tinkled through the room as though bells had rung. A server came for their order and Presia felt compelled to continue watching the couple.

Suddenly, the pilot jumped to his feet and gave a loud, piercing whistle. Presia quickly looked toward the entrance to see who he was summoning. A large, hairy Wookiee sauntered into the cantina with a female alien on each arm.

They're certainly set for an evening, Presia thought to herself. As she worked, she occasionally glanced at the merry-making party. Laughter, jokes, stories and drinks abounded at their table as well as kisses and intimate caresses which passed between the males and females. Every now and then the jewel-bedecked woman would catch Presia gazing at them; she would return the look with one more piercing. Apparently, Presia looked once too often, for the woman finally mentioned the fact to the spacer, that they were being watched. The handsome pilot looked over his shoulder at Presia, smiled, and turned back to his companion. This didn't sit too well with the woman, who must have insisted that he do something about it, for after a few moments, the man walked over to her table. Presia was busy working and wasn't aware of his approach.

"Excuse me." He sneered.

"Oh…" She looked up quickly, folding away her books…"You frightened me."

"It's not my habit to frighten females." He smiled, noticing how pretty she was, "unless it suits my purpose." The server appeared at the table once more at his gesture. 'A blue with a twist." He told her.

A blue, Presia thought, he's already had far too much, but who was she to judge how much he was able to hold and still function. "Another yellow for me." She requested as the server waited.

"You don't drink much do you?" He asked and settled into the booth bench opposite her, letting his left arm rest on the back board of the bench as was his custom when talking with strangers. He'd been hunted by so many different species; all of them male, so far, but he didn't doubt for a minute that someone would use his weakness for females to trap him once and for all. So, he kept his hand at the ready, to reach for his blaster the moment trouble became evident.

"Han Solo." He introduced himself.

"I'm Presia Mahr."

The serve brought their drinks and the fact that Han Solo knew how to quickly appraise any female with a knowing eye didn't escape Presia's attention.

Reaching for the drink Han began, "What about my group over there interests you?"

"You noticed…." Presia stated, embarrassed. "I was hoping I wasn't so obvious."

"Then you admit it." He said, "you have been watching us."

"Yes, I've been watching, but I'm only interested in one member of your group."

With automatic reflexes, Han moved his palm to the butt of his blaster, leveling cautious eyes on her, he asked, casually taking a drink "Which one?"

"The Wookiee" She answered.

Han spewed the remainder of his drink back into his raised glass with a half-laugh, "Chewie?" He was astonished.

"Chewie?"

"Chewbacca," Han said, "I call him Chewie, he's my friend and co-pilot." He relaxed some, feeling with seasoned instincts that this wasn't a threatening conversation. "Why would you be interested in Chewie? Not that he isn't a great guy, but you and Chewie?" He looked over his

shoulder and noticed that the group he'd left was watching his conversation with great interest.

"I'll just show you." Presia said, reaching under the table.

Han came to instant alertness. Maybe this conversation was coming to an abrupt end without him ever finding out her interest in Chewbacca - it all depended on what she brought out from under the table.

Raising a large binder book from the floor, Presia noticed Han's alertness, his hand poised over his weapon.

"What do you think I've got here?" She asked.

"Why don't you show me." Han asked coolly.

She turned the pages of the binder to a portrait of Chewbacca she had been sketching. Showing it to Han, she smiled. "Does it look like him?" 

Han stared at the picture before a long moment. "Yeah…YEAH!" He replied, obviously impressed with the likeness. "You're an imager?"

"Yes, I am."

"This is what you were doing when you were staring at us?"

"I was sketching the Wookiee. Though, I can't see his facial details very well from here. That is why I asked if it looked like him."

Han relaxed. "Is that why a girl like you comes to a place like this, to sketch?"

Presia smiled. "I come here several times a week to sketch off-worlders. I'll never get to go to the places these aliens come from, so , since they frequent this place, it's ideal for me."

"You're not afraid? A place like this can get pretty rough." Han told her. He was finding he was becoming more and more relaxed in presence of this unassuming woman. It was a change for him, and he liked it.

"My uncle owns this place - he's the barkeeper." She informed him. 'Uncle Rubin watches out for me."

Han looked at the bar. Old Rubin had never mentioned he had a niece. On reflection, as Han gazed at Presia, he guessed that maybe the old man had known better.

Chewbacca let go with an impatient growl and Han swiveled around in the booth to see his

companions becoming irritated at his lengthy absence.

"Your friends seem to miss your company." Presia told him.

"Han leaned over the table at her. "Will you be here tomorrow night? I'd like to see you again."

Presia felt herself flush. She never thought someone like this space pilot could become interested in her. "Possibly." She answered softly.

Han noticed the enticingly attractive pink tinge on her cheeks. "I'll be here. You can count on that."

"What about your female friend?" She questioned as Han rose to leave.

"She's just that - a friend." He assured her.

Presia watched openly as Han returned to his table. The others rose and he placed a familiar

hand on the hip of the woman who would be his companion for the night. Ushering them out

the door, Han gave a final glance and wink in Presia's direction.

She smiled to herself, wondering what tomorrow's encounter would bring.


End file.
